Colors
by Shadow 3013
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Herione think about their friends during their fifth year at Hogwarts. (Implied shonen-ai/slash feelings at the end)
1. Flame Red

The Harry Potter series and all its characters do not belong to me. They are the marvelous creations of the wonderful J. K. Rowling, whom I love for coming up with them; I'm just borrowing them for a bit and hoping I don't dishonor the series. I have no money, I mean no disrespect, and this is for pleasure, not profit, so please don't sue. This is my first completed HP fic, so please review. BTW, this is part of a series I'm writing called Colors; there are three parts total, and they can be read in any order. The other two chapters are Black Hair, Emerald Eyes (Ron's POV) and Green With Envy (Hermione's POV). Please read them as well if you like this one.  
  
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Before my eleventh birthday, red was just an ordinary color. It held little meaning for me, save the thoughts of the blood that comes from cuts or scrapes or bloody noses caused by Dudley, or the color my uncle's face turns when he's angry at me.  
  
My eleventh birthday was the day that changed all that, and for the better.  
  
It didn't happen all at once; in fact, it didn't happen until I reached Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Or, rather, didn't reach it.  
  
I'll admit that I was confused; what Muggle wouldn't be? After all, I was at King's Cross Station, just as I was supposed to be, but there was no sign proclaiming my desired destination's whereabouts, no long line of children and parents waiting for the train to arrive, so what was I to think? It was then, as I was walking about trying to find the bloody platform, that my view of the color red changed.  
  
"--- packed with Muggles, of course ---"  
  
Muggle? I hadn't heard that word from anyone but Hagrid, so perhaps. Perhaps the person talking knew something about Platform Nine and Three Quarters?  
  
I spun around to see who was talking, and was greeted by the site of a woman talking to four boys. Four boys with flaming red hair. And they had trunks like mine, and, more importantly, they had an owl.  
  
Well, my mind was made up; I followed them, hoping to watch them and see what to do to get to my destination. They stopped to talk for a moment, and I caught site of girl holding the woman's hand; the girl had red hair the same color as the four boys.  
  
I don't think I'd ever seen so much red all in one spot before, especially not sprouting from people's heads. It was actually pretty interesting, but I had more important things to do than stand around thinking about hair colors.  
  
I watched three of the boys disappear into a wall, the rest of their family just watching calmly, and I still hadn't figured out how they were doing it, so I asked the woman. She explained how to get onto the platform, for which I was very grateful. I did as she said and ran straight into the wall between platforms nine and ten.  
  
And was through the wall, and greeted by yet another life-changing red site. There in front of me was the Hogwarts Express, in all its scarlet, steaming glory. It was an amazing site, and even now, in my sixth year at Hogwarts, I'm still filled with awe every time I first see it for the year.  
  
It was after the initial excitement and rush to get everyone on the train that I truly first met Ron Weasley. We got along rather well in the train, and I'll admit that I was hoping to make friends with him while we were at school. We both got put into Gryffindor, whose colors gave yet another meaning to red for me, and I knew that we'd just have to make friends if we were going to be living together for the rest of our school lives.  
  
Well, as everyone at the school knows by now, that's just what happened. Ron and I quickly became friends, best friends, in fact. We got into all sorts of mischief that first year. And the year after that, and the year after that, and so on. Through four years of school, and I'm certain we'll do the same this year as well.  
  
Poor Hermione. She had to watch us get into trouble at first, worrying about us. Then she started getting into trouble herself, much to our surprise. Wonderful girl, really; I'm only surprised that her heart hasn't given out yet, what with all the stress that Ron and I put on her, and that she puts on herself with her schoolwork.  
  
So red quickly became a color I associated with friends; Ron, George and Fred, the Gryffindor house and the people in it. Even Percy, and later on Ginny. And, of course, the Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, both of whom seem to adore me for some reason.  
  
Somewhere during my fourth year here at Hogwarts, though, red earned one more meaning: love. Not just because everyone says that red is the color of love, but because of what I'm in love with.  
  
I peek out from behind the curtains of my bed and peer over at the bed next to me. The curtains are only half drawn, and I can see a head covered in flame red hair.  
  
Flame red, the color of my love. 


	2. Black Hair, Emerald Eyes

The Harry Potter series and all its characters do not belong to me. They are the marvelous creations of the wonderful J. K. Rowling, whom I love for coming up with them; I'm just borrowing them for a bit and hoping I don't dishonor the series. I have no money, I mean no disrespect, and this is for pleasure, not profit, so please don't sue. This is part of a series I'm writing called Colors; there are three parts total, and they can be read in any order. The other two chapters are Flame Red (Harry's POV) and Green With Envy (Hermione's POV). Please read them as well if you like this one.  
  
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I know I should be doing my homework, but I just can't concentrate. Not when he's around. How can anyone expect me to be able to do homework when I can instead stare at that silky black hair, those shining emerald eyes?  
  
Ruddy hell… I sound like some lovesick little girl! This is what Ginny's thoughts about Harry should sound like, not mine! Not that I can change the way I feel. I spent all of fourth year trying to do just that, and I'm sure that this year will be the same. I tried to ignore my attraction all through summer holiday, and the first three weeks of school. We're starting the fourth week now, and it's just getting harder.  
  
I… I just don't know what to think right now. I mean, why me? Why do I have to like other boys? Maybe if I were older than one of my brothers it wouldn't be so bad, but since I'm the youngest… Well, it's just another expectation for me to live up to. Charlie, Bill, and Percy are all 'normal', they like girls. Fred and George… Well… They're just Fred and George. I don't think they care about anything except each other, Quidditch, and getting into trouble. Even Ginny is normal; she likes boys, just like girls are supposed to.  
  
And then… there's me. Ron Weasley. The boy that's not good at anything except messing up. I'm not a prefect, or a genius, or anything else like that. I'm not handsome or important. I'm not anything special, not in a good way, at least. I have decent grades, but that's mainly because Hermione makes sure I get all my homework done, and that the answers are always correct. I guess that I'm well liked, but the only actual friends I have are Hermione and Harry, a fellow outcast and a star most people are too afraid to approach and actually get to know.  
  
And I like other boys. I'm a pillow biter, a queer. Light in the loafers. A little too happy. I'm weird, a freak, not normal.  
  
I don't know what to do! I mean, I can't just break off my friendship with Harry, I won't! He's the first real friend I had outside of my brothers and sister, and he's my best friend. Not because he's Harry Potter, the Boy That Lived, or Harry Potter, the best Seeker in Gryffindor history, but because he's Harry Potter. Just being himself is enough; he's wonderful, and I don't know what I've done to deserve being his friend, but I don't want to risk ruining everything by telling him how I feel towards him.  
  
The only thing I can think of to do is to just stay silent, hope that perhaps he feels the same and will notice what I'm feeling, but I'm not going to get my hopes up; it's not likely to happen, and I realize it.  
  
I don't want anyone to find out about what I'm feeling, because I'd rather be a nobody than hated.  
  
That's why I'm just staring at my homework, occasionally sneaking a quick glance at Harry out of the corner of my eye. That's why I haven't risked telling him, why I never will risk it.  
  
I'm just a coward… Even with the oh-so-wonderful, oh-so-tempting reward of black hair and emerald eyes. 


	3. Green With Envy

The Harry Potter series and all its characters do not belong to me. They are the marvelous creations of the wonderful J. K. Rowling, whom I love for coming up with them; I'm just borrowing them for a bit and hoping I don't dishonor the series. I have no money, I mean no disrespect, and this is for pleasure, not profit, so please don't sue. This is part of a series I'm writing called Colors; there are three parts total, and they can be read in any order. The other two chapters are Flame Red (Harry's POV) and Black Hair, Emerald Eyes (Ron's POV). Please read them as well if you like this one.  
  
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Quidditch. It's not my cup of tea, but sometimes… Sometimes I wish that I could be out on the field, riding my broomstick, the wind whipping through my hair. I wish I could be part of the excitement, part of a team. Part of something.  
  
"Hermione!" Harry calls, flying over to the stands in front of where I'm sitting. His skin and hair are glistening with sweat, and he looks tired, but he's grinning anyways. "Hey! Ron and I are going to go clean up, so go ahead and head to back to the commons room. We'll be there in about fifteen minutes."  
  
I nod and smile. "All right." He flies off, Ron joining him on the way, and they head to the locker rooms to shower.  
  
I sigh, then get up slowly and begin to walk back to the Gryffindor commons room to wait for Ron and Harry. They had a good practice, from what I can tell. I'm usually too busy with homework to be able to watch their practices, but my professors were rather light on giving out work today, and I finished it all earlier. I'll probably end up having to do Harry and Ron's homework as well, though, so it balances out.  
  
I hear laughing behind me, and look over my shoulder to see who it is. The Weasley twins are busy chasing each other around the campus, performing one fancy maneuver after another in an effort to outdo each other. They have huge grins on their faces; I don't think they care that they're all dirty and should really be washing up right now, or that they have homework that needs to be done. All they care about is having a good time.  
  
I sometimes wish that I could have a brother or sister too… No matter how much they tease each other and complain, I can tell that all of the Weasley kids like having such a big family. Even Harry, who is technically an only child like me, has that void in his life filled; Ginny is like a little sister to him, and Percy, George, and Fred are practically his brothers. Ron is his best friend, which is better than a brother, or so Ron says.  
  
Me? I'm alone. Yes, I have Ron and Harry. They're wonderful friends… But I know that they're closer to each other than to me, so it's just not the same. Most of the other students in Gryffindor are put off by my intelligence and don't want to become my friend; I've heard them talking behind my back. The Hufflepuffs are all to shy to approach me, the Ravenclaws are jealous of my achievements, and I wouldn't even consider making friends with most of the Slytherins. That leaves me with nobody to turn to for a closer companionship.  
  
I guess that's why I haven't tried to talk to Ron or Harry about how I'm feeling. Ron would never understand; he's so close to his family, he's never really felt alone before. Harry would probably understand… But all he could do is feel sorry for me. He'd never put space between himself and Ron in order to get closer to me, and I don't expect that of him.  
  
That leaves me green with envy, watching the people around me live, laugh, and love. Watching the world fly by, as I do my best to keep up, and maybe do a good job at something along the way. 


End file.
